She meant to leave anyway, or so she would tell herself later. Tell me, Sir," she added, with forced calmness, and grasping Wood's arm; "what has Jack done? Tell me in a word, that I may know the worst. They heard his footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing fainter and fainter. In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. You are an artist by the Divine right of birth, but whatever form of expression may come to you at some time it will not be painting. And now for the fawney— the ring I mean.
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